


beneath still waters

by fableknot



Category: The Last Hours Series - Cassandra Clare
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Light Angst, One Shot Collection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-16
Updated: 2018-11-24
Packaged: 2019-05-07 18:59:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14677407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fableknot/pseuds/fableknot
Summary: Grace and Christopher have terrible coping mechanisms.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Presenting a miscellaneous collection of short stories that center around Christopher and Grace being placed under stressful situations.

_Tick tock_ went the clock above Christopher Lightwood. He wasn't certain of how long he had been working in his room, only that he wasn't finished. Distantly, he was aware of the door opening behind him, but he chose not to pay attention.

"Mr. Lightwood."

Something familiar nicked at his consciousness. He brushed it aside. Whatever it was, they were being a nuisance. If he ignored them, maybe they would go away.

"Mr. Lightwood."

His hands were caught in a routine, already far beyond his control. Every fiber in his being stood, transfixed, as he slanted the contents of the test tube into another. The sweet smell of acetone sat heady in his lungs. He had been reaching for a glass on the shelf, when suddenly he was stopped. His eyes traveled down to see his wrist trapped between slender fingers. The cords of muscle in his jaw tightened and he turned, an uncomfortable heat building up inside him—

"Christopher, _stop._ Please."

A noise rang in his ears, rage overshadowed by surprise. Despite the glasses he wore, all he saw was a blurry figure in front of him. He heard the sound of a wet blotch hit the floor, followed by another.

"I don't want you to hurt yourself."

He started to remember Thomas, asking if he was alright. Matthew, trying to smooth talk him into stepping outside. James, locking his arms around his waist in order to physically drag him from the room. Anna, teasing at first but later lecturing him about how childish he was behaving. His parents, muttering about how much they were worried sick about his condition.

"I don't want to lose another person I care about."

Her face finally came into clarity, and a name slipped from his lips. "Grace."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm supposed to be working on other things, but I wanted to write something sad after reading a [recent post](http://cassandraclare.tumblr.com/post/173779067129/qa-more-cls) from Cassandra Clare's blog. | This story was last updated on October 19, 2018.


	2. Chapter 2

Grace Blackthorn wasn't that different when it came to shielding herself from her emotions. When the pain of missing Jesse became too much, or the thought of what she'd done for him led to doubt, she would hide away in an empty room. But while Christopher might immerse himself into pursuing whatever scientific notion he had in his head, his hands a blur over the work desk, Grace would be as still as a doll.

She would sit with her hands neatly folded in her lap and her eyes boring into the patterns on the wall. She could almost pretend to be the doll Lucie shared with her when they were young. A doll that a perfect life, with a perfect family and a perfect house. A doll that never had to think or feel. A doll that only had to behave as it was told, just as Mama intended. Even when it wasn’t being used, a doll could always be that pretty little trinket on the shelf, unencumbered by the reality that awaited all others.

When Christopher had found her that way for the first time, he hadn't said a word. Instead, he simply sat beside her. Although she couldn't bring herself to look at him directly, she could hear him come into the room and feel the warm weight of his back against hers. She could only imagine what he was doing. Tinkering with an experiment, perhaps. Or amusing himself with a book. She wouldn't even put aside the possibility he was sleeping. Although the last thought made her mildly irritated, she couldn't bring herself to send him away.

There was something unnerving yet comfortable about his presence. It was always like that with Christopher, whose carefree ways clashed with her seriousness. No one had ever affected her like he had. Every time he managed to surprise her, she could feel her icy exterior crack.

There had to be something he expected of her. It was true of everyone she had ever met. No matter how pure-hearted they appeared, they all wanted to take a part of her for themselves.

Still, she could not bring herself to ruin the moment. With the barest of movements, she let herself lean into him, and she felt his hand cover over her own.

They weren't that different, she thought. They weren't that different at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Even though it's more of an info-dump than a story, I wanted to add more to this whole anthology. | This story was last updated on January 12, 2019.


	3. Chapter 3

Grace threw open the doors of the Institute. She was always supposed to be in control of herself, but now she was scrambling to put a tight leash on the anger rising up within her. A long-forgotten fire was threading through her veins, burning all the way to her fingertips. She could hardly feel the cold wind that gusted past her as she pressed forward in the snow.

"Grace," Christopher said to her back. "Grace, wait."

She kept her pace, sticking close to the lampposts that broke through the clouded darkness. She didn't stop until there was enough distance between her and Institute, until its outline was nothing more than a speck against the city skyline. Even then, she refrained from looking back.

"What's wrong?" Christopher said.

She stopped in her tracks. "Why did you follow me?"

"You seemed upset."

She clenched her teeth. "And?"

"I wanted to make sure that you would be alright."

She turned to look at him. Although Christopher was far from being the source of her ire, she couldn't believe what she was hearing. "How do you do it?"

He tilted his head. "How do I… what?"

"How?" She threw up her hands. "How do you do it?"

She was making a fatal mistake, but she could no longer bring herself to care. How could he be so unaware of the atmosphere? How could he bring himself to ask those questions, while she had to have the mind to hold her tongue? How could he just ignore everything that dictated their society, while she had to be careful to play along? How could someone casually coast through life, while she had to struggle to keep some semblance of normality?

Without a word, Christopher pulled out a handkerchief and stepped towards her.

She frowned. "What are you doing?"

"You're crying."

She stared up at him, suddenly aware of the wetness on her cheeks. Bit by bit, she could feel her anger chip away. "I don't understand you," she said quietly. When it came to Christopher, she could very easily imagine that she wasn't the only one.

He shrugged. "A lot of people might think the same of you."

Grace had the inappropriate urge to laugh, but she kept it at bay. "And you? What do you think of me?"

He was silent for a moment. "I think... you might enjoy a saving act of science."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to write a different side of Grace. Now I'm tempted to write about Christopher blowing up about how everyone seems to know what's best for him. It would be interesting to see him express his frustration with being treated like a kid, while acknowledging his own faults. | This story was last updated on January 15, 2019.


	4. Chapter 4

Grace took a delicate sip of her tea, her demeanor radiating nothing but composure, even as a certain someone was running around wildly behind her.

"Did you have breakfast this morning?" she asked, placing the cup down.

Christopher was darting back and forth in the hallway, slamming doors left and right, presumably to find what he needed. She had long grown used to his haphazard ways. "I had a muffin and some coffee before I went upstairs," he answered.

"Is your stele in your pocket?"

"Just as it should be."

She heard him cry out, and she whipped her head around at the exact moment he started to pitch forward. In an instant, Grace stood up from her chair, grabbed his wrist and steadied him.

"Are you quite certain your shoes are on the right feet?" she said. "Considering your coat was on backwards yesterday, I wouldn't be surprised."

His hand closed around hers, whereas the other had snaked around to the small of her back. "Was it?" he said. "I seem to be having a hard time remembering between you pulling it off and me putting my—"

"Christopher," she said, not without amusement. "You're going to be late."

He glanced up at the clock before looking back to smile at her. "What would I do without you, Grace?" He pecked a kiss on her cheek. "I'm sorry it's been like this, especially since I've promised to take care of myself."

"It's been a busy week," she conceded. Then she tilted her head. "But aren't you forgetting something?"

"What?"

"Your glasses?" She could see the lenses sticking out from the nest of his chestnut hair, and she flicked her finger on one side to bring it down to his nose.

He blinked at it, while she resisted the urge to remark on how adorable he was.

Instead, she decided to take advantage of his bewilderment to plant a kiss of her own. "You've been preparing this for months," she said against his lips. "You'll charm them just as you've charmed me."

She felt his smile widen to a grin. After they had gotten married, he decided to give direction to his experiments by publishing his findings and presenting them to the Clave. He had come around to being more driven and self-aware, although he was still the bumbling scientist.

Grace, on the other hand, had learned to work alongside the Shadowhunters at the Institute. She figured she could put her capabilities to good use. Although she hadn't expected to make friends there, Lucie and Cordelia took every opportunity to bridge the gap between them.

After much difficulty, Christopher extracted himself from her arms and left, with Grace expelling a sigh after him. But before she had turned around, the door cracked open.

"Hold on," Christopher said. "There's another thing I forgot."

She looked at him expectantly.

"I love you."

A pang stirred in her heart and Grace averted her gaze, fighting the warmth that was spreading to her cheeks. By the time she could control herself, he had already poked his head back out. Did he really stop to say that? He must enjoy flustering her, with the rate he was going about it… although she doubted it was intentional.

She sat down at the table. Christopher was a smart man. Although he wasn't as absentminded these days, and he had less of a tendency to dawdle, there were still times he would get lost in his own world. She supposed that she didn't mind as much, as long as she could get lost with him.

She had been about to finish her cup when she noticed his bag was sitting on the floor. A slow, sinking realization came over her.

"Drat," she said before she went running after him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I like to daydream about their future selves. They honestly deserve to have a cheesy romance. | This story was last updated on January 12, 2019.


End file.
